“Now, my boy, get under that standard,” said he to me.
I did so, and found that I measured five feet six and three-quarter inches.
“Is he all right, doctor?” he asked. “Perfectly so, sir,” was the answer. “That will do, my boy; you can go.” The trial I thought so much about was over. Marshall and I had now a few shillings handed over to us, and were fast bound for our agreed-on term of servitude, unless at any time we might be able to buy ourselves out of the army. For the next three days we had nothing to do but eat our meals and walk about till five o’clock, when we had to appear at the rendezvous; that is, the house where the recruiting-officer had his head-quarters.
On a dark morning—the 5th of November—we were roused up at half-past four, and, after parade, were marched off to the railway-station to proceed to Manchester, the barracks at which place we reached at ten at night. We were at once sent to a room full of beds, ranged along the two walls. All were occupied except two, which were turned up. These were soon made ready, and Marshall and I crept into them. We did not speak to any of the men, and no one took any notice of us. Though we were both well tired, what with the strangeness of the place, and the sentinel every half-hour calling out the number of his post and “All’s well,” neither of us could sleep till near morning, when the bugle’s sound quickly made us start to our feet. In about five minutes the bedding of each bed was neatly folded up, and the iron bedstead turned up over it, with a pair of trowsers, folded into three parts, placed on each, and a forage-cap and stock above. A line was then stretched along the room to see if all the beds were made up of the exact size. This done, the orderly-sergeant came into the room to see that everything was correctly arranged; and if any bed was not done up properly, it was immediately pulled to pieces, to be done up by the owner afresh. All the men not on duty, except the recruits, turned out for half an hour’s drill in undress uniform. The orderly-sergeant having taken down Marshall’s name and mine in his memorandum-book, went out to drill his company. They were dismissed at half-past seven, but the recruits were kept a quarter of an hour longer, when the breakfast bugle sounded. The room orderly, I should say, is a man told off to keep the room in order, to draw all rations for the day for his room, to have meat and vegetables weighed, to see that they are correct in quantity and quality, and to take them to the cook of his company. At the sound of the bugle, the orderly-men ran to the cook-house for their coffee, a pint of which was served out to each man in a white basin, with a pound of somewhat brownish bread. Breakfast over, the orderlies cleared away, while the rest of the men commenced cleaning their appointments for parade, which was to be at eleven o’clock. This was in full uniform and light marching order. The recruits were to appear in plain clothes.
A sergeant came to Marshall and me, and told us to fall in. He then put us through our facings.
“Right dress. Eyes front. Stand at ease,” he exclaimed.
From having often stood at ease, when watching the men drilling, without thinking of what I was about, I fell into the proper position.
“To what regiment did you belong, young man, before you joined the 90th?” asked the sergeant, thinking that he had caught a deserter.
“To none,” I answered.
“Not so sure of that,” said he.